


I think you're something that I want to be

by brokendrums



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 05:32:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokendrums/pseuds/brokendrums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's starting to think that Niall's a zombie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I think you're something that I want to be

**Author's Note:**

> Major thanks to [ Nicki ](http://themanyfaceswewear.tumblr.com) for the beta! Once again this started off as a little cute fun idea but diverged into something a bit more apocalyptic and you really helped me out of a hole at the end :)
> 
> Fair warning that this contains mild themes that may border on necrophilia depending on the way you look at it. I don't think the content warrants a tag above because it is not explicit but just in case someone is bothered by that. 
> 
> Title from Breach - Everything You Never Had. Happy (belated) Halloween :)

“Up you get!” Harry singsongs into Niall’s ear. Niall twitches underneath him, burying his nose into the pillow and rolling his face into the dip where Harry’s had just been. “Come on, wake up sleepyhead.” 

“Leave me alone,” Niall mumbles into the cotton of Harry’s pillowcases and Harry can’t help but watch the way his bottom lip drags on the material. There’s a bit of a wet spot from where he’s drooled over it but Niall rolls into it anyway.

“You’re nearly as bad as Zayn, y’know?” Harry tells him and ducks down until he can kiss him on the lips. Niall splutters for a moment, hand flailing up because he’s not expecting it until he registers what’s going on and starts to sleepily mouth back at him. Harry grins into his lips, kissing him slowly back. 

“Am not,” Niall shakes his head and pushes a hand to Harry’s cheek to bat him away. “I’ll get up in a minute. Promise.” His voice has gone slow again though and Harry knows from experience that he’ll just drop off again.

“That’ll be ages,” Harry complains and settles in against him. He’s got a leg straddled over Niall’s thigh, pulling him open and his skin is hot under the covers as he pushes his hand over his stomach. 

Niall squirms under his wandering fingers before he squints, blinking quickly to wake himself up properly. He makes a noise, soft and quiet as Harry watches him stretch, knocking the kinks out of his neck and back, rolling his waist up into Harry’s palm. He looks like he’s twisted awkwardly but Harry doesn’t bother to move because he’s nice and warm pressed against him. 

“Why do we have to be up early?” Niall asks quietly, pulling the sheet over his bony shoulder and snuggling under it. He looks cute like this, sheets pulled up to his chin and eyelids drooping again. His cheeks are pinker than usual, relaxed and warm from bed. Harry pushes his hand down further.

“Because we have plans!” Harry announces, scratching his nails through the smattering of hair Niall’s very proud of on his belly. “Plans that involve a blissfully empty golf course and bottles of beer and no screaming girls.” He leans in to blow at his ear, enjoying the way Niall tries to jerk away from him.” _Get up!_ “

“Argh,” Niall sighs and pats his knuckles against the side of Harry’s head half heartedly. Harry mirrors him, dragging his fingers through Niall’s hair, tugging at it until Niall moves his head with him so Harry can lick up his cheek. 

“You’re disgusting Harry,” Niall tells him matter-of-factly but there’s mirth in his eyes and Harry can be sure that he won’t fall asleep again now, his eyes are too bright. Harry nuzzles into his neck, breathing in the soft, beddy smell of him before drawing back to look up at him.

“My tongue can be put to use for much better things,” Harry promises him, stomach tensing at how Niall’s face shifts. 

“Yeah?” Niall breathes and turns his head. Harry watches him closely, taking in the rosy flush of his face and how he’s just shifted his hips up against his hand again. “How about you show me?” 

Harry snorts, ducking in to press his lips against Niall’s jaw, teeth scraping over the hint of stubble on his chin, barely there, before he moves, rolls over so he’s lying spread over him and he can lick down his throat, stopping to suck on his collarbone and on down his chest. 

Niall’s hand winds into his hair, fingertips skittering over Harry’s hairline just as he dips his tongue into his bellybutton, kissing messily over it and licking down the V of his hips until he can kiss along his waistband. Niall shifts underneath him, pulling his leg up so Harry’s bracketed in, the blanket sliding down his shoulders. Niall’s nipples peak up with the cold and Harry reaches up to thumb over one, listening to the hitch in Niall’s breath. 

“Off,” Harry mumbles, biting at the elastic and tugging with his teeth as Niall laughs breathily above him. He glances up when he tucks his fingertips into the material, dragging them down over Niall’s arse, Niall watching him the whole time with dark eyes and a small, soft smile on his face. 

Harry settles down again, fingers fitting around him easily in a way that they’ve perfected over the past couple of months. Niall gasps out, hips working up again and Harry sets his free hand on his hip, nails biting into the thin skin there. 

“Yeah, this is an alright way to wake up,” Niall sighs and when Harry looks up he sees how wrecked he looks already, eyes crinkling shut and his other hand in his own hair, tugging at it himself to counterpoint Harry’s hand on his dick. 

Harry laughs at him, ducking down to mouth at his balls, hot against his tongue and bite at the insides of his thighs. 

“Fuck,” Niall swears, leg jerking as Harry nuzzles into his lap, licking around the base of his dick before he mouths up the side, pushing his lips over the tip the way Harry knows Niall likes. Niall sighs out, fingers tightening in Harry’s hair, dragging along at his scalp as Harry sucks, hollowing his cheeks and pushing his tongue into the slit. 

Niall makes a noise, low and quiet in the silence of the room and Harry loves the way he sounds, light and breathy and warm. He kicks his leg up again, curling in on himself so his knee is pressed into Harry’s side and Harry can feel the way it trembles against him, muscles jumping every time Harry twists his hand. Harry pushes his other hand to it, thumbing over the crease of his thigh and holding him open as he purses his lips and takes him into the back of his throat. 

“Harry,” Niall warns, voice rough and Harry pulls off on purpose, grinning up at him as he comes, shooting a long stripe of white up his belly. 

“You’re a dick,” Niall mutters, breath still hitching as he tries to gather himself. Harry laughs, pushing his thumb through the wet, sticky puddle.

“I am,” Harry agrees and shuffles up so he can sit against Niall’s thigh, shoving his boxers down just far enough that he can get a hand on himself, palm slipping over the sticky head of his dick as he pulls himself off. 

Niall watches, pushing the tips of his fingers up to touch Harry’s knees, hot pads of his fingers pressing into his skin but doing very little else. Harry glances up, grins at the sleepy face Niall is pulling, even with his eyes hungrily watching Harry’s hand and when he comes he makes sure to direct it over Niall’s stomach before collapsing onto the bed beside him.

“You’re so gross,” Niall mutters, twisting away when Harry tries to kiss him. Harry laughs into his shoulder before he rolls away, pulling up his boxers as he slides out of bed. Most of his wardrobe is sprawled out over the carpet, half of Niall’s stuff in there too and he sorts through a pile of clothes, listening to the quiet sounds of Niall getting out of bed. 

He pulls the tag off a lurid green tee he had got the other day and when Niall passes him on his way to the bathroom, he skims his fingers along the base of his back and they feel hot before they’re gone.

 

*

The day sort of goes down hill from there. There’s a bunch of fans at the front door and they clamour at them, hands pulling at Harry’s shirt and Niall presses in close to his back, hands hot on his hips as they stumble through the group and escape into the car. 

“You alright?” Harry asks him once the screams are shut out and Niall gives him a shaky smile, pulling at his sleeve. There’s a smear of blood and Harry leans across the back seat to press his lips against the side of his temple.

“Just a scratch,” Niall grins at him but stays quiet the rest of the journey. 

He’s quiet most of the day during golf as well and Harry starts to notice how he’s lagging, trailing after him as they move from hole to hole. He leans against one of his golf clubs as Harry putts, and sits in the cart when he doesn’t have to be up and about, slugging out of a bottle of water and keeping his cap down low. 

Harry wins but it’s hardly fun when he realises Niall doesn’t really try. 

He disappears once they get back, slipping off to shower in his own room which hardly makes sense because most of his stuff is in Harry’s but Harry lets him, flopping down onto the bed that’s been freshly made. There’s a mint on his pillow and he eats it slowly, licking the chocolate off his fingers. They’re nice and after he pulls his phone off the charger he walks down the hallway to Niall’s room to maybe eat his as well. 

He’s not there and Harry doesn’t have a spare key so he wanders around the hallway until Paul marches him into a car to the venue, everyone else already gone. 

“Where’s Niall?” he asks him, pulling at the collar of the t-shirt he’s wearing, it might be Niall’s and it feels tight over his shoulders where he’s starting to sweat through it. 

“He’s got a headache,” Paul tells him. He’s sorting through something on his phone and when he looks up he tries to be stern. “So don’t be bothering him all evening, he’s probably just got sunburn or something.” 

“It’s not that sunny,” Harry mutters, glancing out the window to look at the clouds in the sky. It’s hot though and they had been out all morning. Harry’s shuttled onto stage nearly as soon as he gets to the arena, soundcheck about to begin, and there’s chattering behind the curtain as Harry slides into the holding area backstage. 

“Where’s Niall?” he asks Zayn as he hands him his mic. Zayn shrugs, fiddling with his in ears as Liam fills him in. 

“Lost him, have you?” Louis laughs to himself and peeks out the back of the set. 

“Disappeared to get some paracetamol off Lou,” Liam mutters and rolls his shoulders. He claps Harry on the back with a grin. “We’ll be ok without him, right?” 

He finally finds Niall sitting in one of the empty dressing rooms at the back of the arena, staring straight ahead with his hands clasped tightly in his lap. There’s a bowl of stew sitting on the arm of the sofa and it doesn’t look like it’s been touched, Niall preferring to chew on his lip instead. 

“You still feeling ill?” Harry checks first. Niall startles out of his reverie and glances up, as if only just noticing Harry’s in the room at all. 

“I’m fine,” he mumbles and Harry glances over him. He looks fine so Harry doesn’t feel so bad shouting at him. 

“Well then, where the fuck have you been?” Harry asks because other than his battered lips, he doesn’t look like he’s maimed himself or had an emergency or anything that would give him the excuse to hide away all day. “You disappeared on me, we had sound check without you!” 

“Oh,” Niall mumbles. “Forgot sorry.” 

Harry gapes at him. “Come on, Lou’ll need to sort your hair out.” 

Niall shakes himself and pushes one hand through his hair, eyes widening for a moment. “Nah, I’ll sort it out myself.” 

Harry frowns at him. “You can’t style it for shit though,” he tells him in case he’s forgotten the monstrosity his hair usually looks when he gets up in the morning. “Anyway, I have to get mine done too. Come on.” 

Niall stares at him again and there’s something off; Harry just knows that something isn’t right but he can’t put his finger on it. He looks the same, a bit spaced out with his eyes going glassy like that and maybe a bit peaky but that could be anything from Niall’s hangover lasting all day to him just missing an afternoon in the sun. 

“You sure you’re ok, mate?” Harry asks him carefully and Niall nods again, hand still firmly in his hair. Harry watches as he tightens his fist in it, like he could yank a handful out.

“I’m great, honest.” His voice is shaky and Harry watches him nervously. 

But then he finally flashes him that grin that makes Harry beam back at him, helpless to keep a straight face when Niall’s being happy like this. 

“Great,” Harry tells him and reaches forward to swing an arm around his neck. Niall nuzzles into it and Harry gets to swipe his hand over his forehead, feeling the clammy heat of his skin before Niall’s spinning out of his hug. 

“Let’s go.” He shrugs his arm off, jerking away awkwardly and Harry can’t stop the flash of panic erupting in his stomach as Niall sets off down the corridor, hand patting over his hair nervously. He watches as he rolls his shoulders and bends his neck, working out the kinks in his spine.

“Niall!” Harry hisses after him but Niall shrugs him off again, smiling tightly over his shoulder and slipping into the crowded dressing room, noise erupting from it when the door opens. 

He’s off during the show and Harry can’t help tracking him as he moves about the stage. During Rock Me Harry catches him staring off into space, eyes trained on the sixth row and his jaw dropped opened. Liam snorts from beside Harry. 

“Who’s Niall got his eye on?” he asks him and Harry should laugh but there’s something clawing at the back of his throat as he watches Niall stare blankly, looking sort of dead behind his eyes, arm limp at his side as his fingers lose grip around his microphone. 

The thud of it on the stage, echoing through his in-ears must shake him because he glances down sharply at it, stooping to pick it up before standing up straight again. He stretches his back awkwardly before spinning, grin painted back on his face as he catches Harry’s eye. 

He gives him a thumbs up and Harry’s a second too slow to return it, smile feeling too forced on his lips and Niall’s not an idiot so his smile falters, like he knows he’s been caught. He edges back from the crowd, turning his back on the screaming and the shouts and the flashing cameras. Harry watches him as he staggers a bit, foot catching on the back of his other heel and it’s more something that Harry would be up to in his most clumsy moments and he can nearly hear the laugh Niall would give him, bright and loud but instead Niall just frowns down at his own feet as if he doesn’t believe they’re attached to his own legs.

“Harry!” Louis calls out and he startles back to the present and the 20,000 screaming girls in front of him to belt out his part of the verse and when he’s done, he risks looking back at Niall again and it’s as if nothing ever happened, the grin on his face easy as he laughs with Zayn across the stage. 

*

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong with you?” Harry asks him once they’re out of the bus and sneaking into the hotel foyer. The rest of them have gone up, loud and chattering and hyped up but Niall had toddled behind, walking slowly and keeping his eyes down, watching his feet as he puts one in front of the other. 

Niall jumps, eyes skittering up to meet Harry’s and then away. They look different though, foggy and grey instead of bright. He can’t help but reach out and grip him around the chin, feeling the way he’s too warm. 

“What is it?” he asks him quietly and Niall’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open in shock. Harry can nearly see the words forming on his tongue but he snaps his mouth shut again just as Harry thinks he’s about to talk. 

“I -” he croaks and shakes himself out of Harry’s grip. “I’m wrecked, that’s all. Just gonna go to bed, you know?” 

Harry looks at him, taking in the way his skin has paled out and the dark smudges, purple and hollow, just below his eyes. “You’re tired? That‘s all?” 

Niall nods, eyes clouding again as he tries to avoid Harry’s scrutinising gaze. 

“Right, boys?” Paul says, appearing behind them. He eyes them suspiciously before holding out two key cards. Harry takes them both, plucking them out of Paul’s hand easily because Niall’s too slow. “Straight up on the fifth floor. No funny business.” 

Harry offers him a sweet smile but Niall doesn’t even bother, shoulders slumping as he follows Harry towards the lift. He doesn’t even take a card off him so Harry just shadows him, holding a hand up in case he falls over or something because he has a wild feeling at the back of his mind that Niall‘s going to keel over at any moment. 

“I don’t know if I should leave you alone,” Harry tells him, pushing into the elevator behind him and jamming the button for the fifth floor before anyone else can get in behind them. Paul glares at them as the doors close in his face but Harry just smiles at him again, hoping that he doesn’t look suspicious. 

“I’m just going to go straight to bed,” Niall tells him, pretending to yawn behind a hand. Harry raises an eyebrow. “Harry, seriously, everything’s alright.” He fake yawns again, jaw inching wider and then he actually yawns, eyes crinkling and going teary. He hides it behind his palm and goes pinker, cheeks already flushed even though it’s cool in the lift. 

“I believe you,” Harry tells him and it’s a lie. Niall copies him, eyebrow inching up his forehead, a perfect arch. Harry offers him a smile to cover his fib. “But what if I want a cuddle?” 

Niall stares at him for a moment and it’s unnerving, his eyes are missing something and look dull underneath the bright lights of the lift. Harry jiggles his foot as they come to a halt, stomach swooping with the momentum of it before Niall is pushing him out into the hallway, feet tripping on the carpet again. 

“I’m very needy, Niall.” Harry tries to push his point, dimpling his cheeks and fluttering his eyelashes. It normally works, Niall’s never able to resist and he can nearly see his resolve weakening like a physical slump of his shoulders. Harry latches onto his back and he’s too warm; even through the layers of clothes and the air conditioning of the five star hotel they’re in he’s too warm, a faint sheen of sweat going clammy at the back of his neck. 

Niall snorts, finally bringing a hand up to grip around his wrist. “Ok,” he sighs and Harry grins into his neck. He kisses him there, sweet behind the ears and he tastes salty on his lips. 

Niall sighs and then squirms out of his grip so he can open the door. He’s walked them back to Harry’s room again and it makes him smile into the dip of Niall’s shoulder. Harry follows him in, pressed up against his back until they reach the bed, pushing playfully at Niall’s knees until he gives up and lets himself fall onto the bed. He brings Niall down with him, listening to him grunt as Harry shoves him face first into a pillow and snuggles into his neck. 

“You’re like a radiator,” Harry whispers after a few moments of quiet breathing. Harry’s ears are still ringing a little bit and the adrenaline is starting to wear off, muscles going lax as he cuddles into the heat of Niall’s skin. 

“Is that -” Niall cuts off and Harry’s so close he can hear him swallow. “Is that not -”

Harry watches him out of the corner of his eye and Niall’s face twists as he tugs his bottom lip into his mouth again, pulling at the skin that’s already raised and ragged. 

“Normal?” Harry asks when Niall can’t gather the right word. Niall stills again, shoulders going tense before he wriggles out from below him, kicking his foot to get Harry to roll away. 

“Just pumped from the show, y’know?” He sounds jittery and Harry sits up as he jumps off the edge of the bed. “I’m gonna shower, I must stink, yeah? I’ll be out in a minute.” 

He disappears into the bathroom before Harry can say anything and the resounding click of the lock echoes out into the silence of the room. Harry can’t help frowning to himself because he’s never locked the door when they’ve shared before. Liam used to shout at him for walking in on him when he was peeing but Niall always used to laugh and invite him into the shower with him. 

He must fall asleep waiting on Niall to come out because when he next opens his eyes it’s to a slight pain in his shoulder and the clammy heat of the morning. 

“Wha?” Harry asks himself, blinking through the sleep in his eyelashes. He tries to move but there’s something on his arm pinning him down and something stings on his shoulder again. When he orientates himself properly he realises that Niall’s pressed up against him, skin burning like a furnace pressed sweat slick against his and he has his teeth against his shoulder, gnawing at the skin there with just enough bite to hurt. 

“Niall,” Harry whispers and it comes out much more shocked than he hoped it would. He can’t move, muscles locking up as he tries to work out what Niall’s doing. He takes a breath and wills himself to calm down but Niall bites down again, tongue sweeping out to soothe the skin where it stings. “Niall!” 

He wakes up groggily, even more so than what he’s usually like in the morning. He blinks slowly at him before curling into him more, eyes fluttering shut again.

Harry raises a hand, pushing away at the sheets tangled around their arms so he can lay a palm on Niall’s cheek. It’s hot and when Harry tucks his head closer he can smell outside, something earthy and mossy that makes him drag back an inch, like Niall’s rolled around in soil all night. 

“You smell of feet,” Harry murmurs, trailing his eyes down Niall’s face as he tries to wake up properly. Harry rubs at Niall’s eye and when he blinks them open, there’s goop sticking to his eyelashes where Harry’s missed. 

“Do not,” Niall grumbles but straightens his back and looks shifty again. Harry tries to smile reassuringly at him but there’s panic in Niall’s eye and he looks like he’s about to go into full on freak out mode. “I’m fine,” he says again and it’s like his new mantra. 

“You’re fine,” Harry repeats flatly and even to his own ears it doesn’t sound believable. Niall nods, hair sticking to the pillow. Harry allows himself to sound small for a second. “Really?” 

“Really,” Niall tells him, inching closer and it’s easy for Harry to kiss him there. He knows Niall’s doing it to distract him and he hates how it works. 

His lips are chapped and he’s sleep warm, hot under the duvet where he’s tangled with Harry’s feet. He tastes of sleep, metallic and damp, and Harry wouldn’t kiss anyone else but Niall like this. He winds an arm around his waist, pulling him in to kiss him harder and Niall goes with him, kissing him back, rolling over so he’s lying across him. Harry licks over the seam of his lips, a slow push of his tongue and groans when Niall’s hand finds his wrist, pushing it into the mattress as he kisses him harder. 

There’s a change of pace then and Harry tries to keep up as Niall picks up speed, lips firm as he licks into his mouth. He scrapes his teeth over Harry’s bottom lip, and then again before he bites it proper. 

“Oh,” Harry breathes out into Niall’s mouth and Niall freezes, turns to stone before he’s flipping off him again. 

“Sorry,” Niall mutters and he’s out of the bed before Harry can pull him back. He sits up, fingers coming up to feel at his lip where it’s swollen. It feels warm to the touch and it stings a bit but there’s no blood. 

“Wait,” Harry calls after him when he finally snaps himself to the fact that he’s pulling on his jeans from last night. “Come back, it’s ok, it didn’t hurt.”

Niall ignores him, pulling on his shirt as well and Harry finally drags himself out of bed, tripping on the duvet where it’s fallen half off the bed. Niall’s already grabbing his phone from the nightstand and Harry rushes to match him, pulling on his jeans and a grubby t-shirt from last night. 

“Niall, seriously,” Harry stresses. He doesn’t know why but Niall ignores him again, not even looking over his shoulder when he opens the door. “Niall, for fuck sake, wait!”

There’s no one in the corridor to see how Harry runs after him, catching up with him as he waits on the lift. 

“Sorry,” Niall says and keeps his face straight ahead. Harry looks at his profile and he can see his own reflection in the shiny lift doors. In the bright of the corridor Harry can see how he’s still pale, dark shadows smudging under his eyes until they nearly look hollow. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling ok?” Harry can’t help but ask. He sees the way Niall’s shoulders tense and he doesn’t want to push the subject but now he’s worried that Niall’s genuinely ill. Tour can be hard, he gets that but Niall’s acting all out of sorts.

“Not this again,” he groans out and they step into the lift. There’s a woman from upstairs in it and she glances up at them, face twisting but she doesn’t say anything. Niall stays quiet but Harry doesn’t. 

“Do you need a trip to the doctor?” Harry asks and fights the urge to put his hand up to his forehead again. Niall’s biting his lip again, tugging it between his teeth and running it through his bite. 

“Look,” Niall snaps finally, running a hand through his hair until it sticks out everywhere in big tufts. The elevator dings and they’re only on the first floor, a few extra people cramming into the lift. “I don’t even know why you care -”

“I’m your best friend. I’m more - I -” Harry spits out and feels jittery because they haven’t quite had that conversation yet. He feels a vindictive spike of pleasure at the way Niall’s face wilts with guilt and it makes him all the more determined. “Of course I fucking care about you.” 

“Well this isn’t anything to worry -” Niall’s sweating and cuts off roughly as the doors ding open and they can finally spill out into the bright foyer. 

It’s busy downstairs, a huge group of people queuing up around the reception desk to check out. They look frazzled and Niall gives him a look as they step out of the elevator. There’s weight behind it but Harry doesn’t really know what it means. 

There’s no fans outside the window either and it might sound conceited but Harry finds it odd after they’ve been mobbed nearly everywhere they go now. He can see the mess they’ve made though, there’s a sleeping bag, half tucked into it’s cover and a few half empty bottles of water littered about the path on the other side of the window. 

“What’s going on?” Harry asks, mostly to himself because Niall is already shuffling off towards the restaurant where the rest of them have gathered around a large TV screen. There’s a few people from the crew who puts up the stage and they all look worried. 

Louis’ staring quietly at the screen, the yellow ticker tape spinning over the top and bottom and image flickering between an enlarged pink and purple dividing cell and the blonde presenter on screen. 

“What?” Niall echoes faintly and Liam clears his throat, face tight but Harry can see it in his eyes that he doesn’t really believe it’s true. . 

“Flesh eating virus, it’s sending people round the bend,” he tells them in a hushed whisper and he flicks his eyes back to the screen, not taking them away again. Harry swallows, glancing away from the images of empty streets and looks around at the group gathered around them instead, all clearly shocked by the news. 

“They caught people eating other people in some town further west,” Paul tells them, patting Zayn on the shoulder where he’s huddled at his elbow. “And they think it’s spreading. It’s an alert.”

“Like,” Harry says quietly and glances back at the TV. It looks like a vacant street, there‘s a bike lying in the middle of the road and a post box is hanging off its little stoop. Harry had wanted his post box to be at the end of the drive when he was younger but his mum had laughed at him and got one to hang up outside the door instead, said that was fancy enough. “Zombies?” 

Niall stiffens beside him, shoulders locking and elbow jerking against Harry’s arm before he pulls it in tight to his side, a full inch between them but it feels like a mile. Louis snorts at his other side, shoulders sagging a little bit with the breath he releases, pushing in so he can press against him, and to Harry, it only makes the gap between him and Niall feel bigger.

“Fucking mad, isn’t it? It‘s like a movie or something!” he cries but Harry hardly pays him any attention because everything is clicking into place in his head. Niall’s feverish skin and chapped lips, the slightly awkward gnawing on his neck and the way he can hardly lift his feet an inch off the ground.

Niall turns on his heel and promptly scuffles away from them, left foot dragging slightly and Harry acts purely on instinct.

“No, no, don't run away from this!” Harry calls after him, ignoring that the rest of those gathered are watching him as he runs after Niall. He manages to grab Niall around the bicep and he spins, trainers squeaking on the marble floor of the foyer to glare back at him. There’s a faint rumble in his throat and it nearly sounds like a growl and it startles Harry into dropping his arm as quick as he grabbed it.

“We need to talk about this,” Harry tells him quickly, words coming out jumbled together because he wants to be quick but he‘s aware of the growing line of people at the reception desk looking on and how _everyone_ seems to be running away.. 

Niall shakes his head, taking a step back and Harry’s heart spikes at the fear in Niall’s expression, all but telling him that he’s right, that Niall’s got this _thing._ Niall turns again and walks down a corridor, bypassing the shiny set of lifts and ducking behind a huge green fern by the door to the emergency stairs. Harry follows him, nearly tripping over his heels as he bundles him into the first cupboard he can see.

“What the fuck, Harry?” Niall yelps and spins around to glare at him, eyes narrowing defensively as Harry jams the door shut and everything goes dark. 

“You didn’t want to tell me that you’re a fucking zombie?” Harry hisses at him, fingers locking around his wrist to tug him closer to him. He’s scared he’ll try and bolt again and can nearly see the nervous energy thrumming under his skin. Niall tries to squirm out of his grip but he just can’t manage it before he gives up, sinking back against a line of shelves and settling with a glare in the dim of the room. 

“I didn’t want to freak you out, I’ve been freaked out enough as it is.” Niall blinks at him, eyes growing impossibly large and Harry hates it when he does that. Niall definitely plays up the cute, baby thing when he wants to. They’ve had words about it before but Niall normally gives him wide, doe eyes and Harry can’t shout at him any more. 

“You are a zombie,” Harry states, feeling the words out on his tongue. It feels insane to even be speaking about it. Niall shakes his head. 

“I’m not, stop saying that,” he snaps but his eyes are burning and he flicks them down to look at his feet again. 

Harry shakes his head because they can’t stay in denial any longer. He had known something was wrong with him from the start and he feels shit for ignoring it. “You're burning hot,” Harry explains slowly. “And you taste weird-”

“I do not taste weird!” Niall snaps defensively but Harry ignores him - he’s still trying to work through the mugginess in his head.

“And some of your hair came out this morning. You were biting my arm like that. Oh my God, you kissed me. You're undead, fuck, I kissed a dead person.”

Harry wants to gag but Niall’s giving him that wide eyed look again but this time he looks so offended that Harry has to swallow it down; even with the revulsion rolling through his stomach that he might‘ve shared spit with a corpse, he can’t let Niall see how it’s getting to him. 

“Sorry,” Harry apologises and winces when it sounds like he’s choking on the words. They feel like they’re stuck in his throat and he clamps his lips together again, in case something else comes out of them.

“You didn’t,” Niall says softly and he ducks his head, shuffling his shoes clumsily. He kicks a bucket and Harry knows he wouldn’t have been this lumbering this time last week. “I'm still me. I - uh -promise. I’m still the same.”

He reaches out and grabs at Harry’s hand then and the grip is all wrong. Too strong and too warm but Harry looks down at their fingers, interlocking together in instinct and follows Niall’s pale arm up over his shoulder until he meets his eyes, seeing the grey, sad look in them. Harry offers him a smile but he isn’t sure what else he can offer him at the moment, his heart is hammering so fast that he’s nearly sure if he opens his mouth Niall’d be able to hear it. He swallows down the flood of spit at the back of his mouth, tongue too big in his mouth as he remembers the chalky taste from this morning. He hasn’t even brushed his teeth yet. 

He does gag then and Niall freezes, face shutting down. 

“Cheers,” he says dully and Harry’s never heard his voice go like that. He tries to think of it as human. “I wonder why I didn’t tell you sooner?” 

And when he edges out of the room, Harry lets him because he‘s shit and can‘t make himself stop him. As soon as the door slams shut he spins, empties his stomach into the mop bucket at his feet and swears softly under his breath because he isn’t sure if he could be a shittier friend at the moment. 

*

Paul sort of goes into police mode - the rest of the tour has been put on indefinite hold and they’re staying in the hotel until everything gets sorted out. It seems to Harry like everyone is acting very calm, he keeps expecting someone to jump out at him with an axe like he’s in a movie. 

“Get up to the room, Harry,” Paul orders him on Day Two. Harry’s taken to numbering the days because it seems to be the appropriate way to acknowledge that they’re in some sort of apocalypse - even if everyone is going about daily life like they‘re not. He had freshly squeezed orange juice for breakfast as he watched someone wash a spatter of blood and brain matter off the front restaurant windows while he buttered his toast. Someone changed his sheets last night and left a mint on his pillow like every other day and while Harry joined Liam for a relaxing swim in the pool down by the basement, Louis went for a massage. 

Niall still isn’t speaking to him, slipping out of the suite Paul’s moved them to as Harry enters it and hiding away in his room most of the day. The rest of the boys have all moved into one room, pulling Harry into comforting hugs because they need someone to baby now that Niall won’t let them close enough. Harry should hate it but he’s not allowed to cuddle Niall now either so he lets Zayn pat at his hair and Liam rub at his shoulders while Louis fast forwards to the good bits of Shaun of the Dead. He had gotten bored half way through and went on a wander to find something to do when Paul had sent him back upstairs. 

“Niall, wait,” Harry tries half heartedly but Niall ignores him, sliding out of the kitchen before he has a chance to butter any of the toast he’s made. He looks thin and pale under the collar of the thick cardigan he’s got on and he glances up at him with dark eyes before he disappears. 

“He’ll come around,” Zayn murmurs and latches onto Harry’s back. He nuzzles his face into Harry’s shoulder and sighs. “He just needs a cuddle.” 

“You just need a cuddle more like,” Harry tells him petulantly and shrugs him off. “Piss off and annoy Louis or something.” 

Zayn sighs. “Everyone is so tetchy today.” 

“If you hadn’t noticed the world is ending outside,” Harry snaps and there’s a slam of a door from behind him, around the same area where Niall sloped off to. “Shit.” 

“What’s wrong with you?” Zayn asks but he’s already walking away, searching for someone else to bother. Harry grabs the toast out of the machine and slathers it in some of Liam’s jam. They had taken most of the food off the bus and even though they had all wanted to get back on the road, Paul had vetoed it immediately. 

Harry’s tentative knocks on the door are loud in the eerie silence of the room and Harry strains his hearing until there’s a grunt from inside. He’s not sure if that means go away or come in but it unsettles his stomach, like something’s fizzing in there, so he takes a deep breath and pushes through the door anyway. 

Niall’s curled in the middle of the bed, a lump under the duvet and he hardly moves as Harry gets closer. 

“I brought you your breakfast,” Harry says cheerfully and tugs at the corner of the blankets. “Come on, stop ignoring me, you’ll waste away.” 

Niall snorts and it’s gravelly, from the back of his throat. He peeks out from under the edge of the duvet and blinks at him, eye sockets sunken in and wide. 

“Already wasting away,” he tells him tiredly and sits up, cross legged so he can pull the corner of the duvet through his fingers. Harry’s seen him do this before, rub at the label of a shirt or pull the edge of a scarf around his fingers like it’s a nervous habit. The final week of The X Factor, Niall had rubbed at the corner of one of Harry’s scarves until it had gone shiny. 

“Eat then,” Harry orders him and shoves the plate into his lap, climbing up onto the bed so he can sit opposite him, mirroring his posture, shoulders slumped as he looks at the breakfast in front of him. Niall frowns down at the plate and picks at the crust of one slice of toast. 

“Look I know it’s not, like, a culinary delight or something, but,” Harry sighs, already getting increasingly wound up by Niall. He looks a bit pathetic and Harry feels sorry for him and all but he needs to perk up a bit to put Harry‘s mind at rest. 

“I -” Niall pauses, glances up at him and Harry sees the trepidation in his eyes. He opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong but Niall shoves half the piece of toast into his mouth, jam sticking to the edge of his mouth as he chews. He makes a face before it goes blank again and he chews and chews and chews and chews until Harry watches him force himself to swallow. “Happy?” He asks so quietly that Harry’s heart pangs for him. 

“Is it not nice?” Harry asks just as quiet. The wind picks up outside and it howls through the gap at the top of the window. “I’ll make you more if you want? No jam?” Harry laughs nervously. “Do the undead not like jam?” 

Niall’s mouth twists into a wry grin to mask his wince and he picks apart the crust of the other piece. “Doesn’t taste right, nothing does.” 

“Shit,” Harry breathes and he feels like an arse. He should’ve thought this would happen, he doesn’t know of any zombie movies where they eat anything - unless humans count but he doesn’t want to think about that right now. 

He swallows and waits until Niall looks up at him again to smile, saving it for when he’s actually paying attention and Niall keeps his gaze. There’s something different about it, but Harry can still see some of Niall in there.

“Aren’t you hungry then?” Harry asks slowly and Niall shakes his head, shrugging but it looks like his whole body is lurching up, shoulders hulking as he shifts them. 

“No,” he smiles sadly and is quiet for a moment. He meets Harry’s eye again before jerking away to watch where he’s back to rubbing the sheet between his fingers. “There’s like something in me that wants something,” he pauses to swallow and Harry can hear it, loud and mechanical sounding like there’s something stuck in there. “But it’s not food.” 

“Oh,” Harry breathes out because if he says anything else he’ll give away how much he’s freaking out. Niall glances up at him, as if sensing his unease and gives him another smile, this time more genuine, lips filling out and pinking up, starkly against the pale of his cheeks. 

“Don’t worry,” he laughs, slow and croaky. “Promise I won’t eat you.” 

Harry laughs nervously but scootches closer anyway, pushing the plate of toast away and letting Niall curl into his arms, fingers gripping at his shirt tightly as he breathes into his neck. 

“I won’t eat you either,” Harry promises shakily and it’s all worth it to hear Niall’s broken laugh. 

*

On Day Three, Harry Googles zombies. He sees hollow white eyes and the red smear of blood and promptly hides his phone down the side of the sofa.

And he knows that Niall’s Googled it. So he hides his phone too.

*

It's getting harder to hide Niall’s little secret. He wakes up in a puddle of sweat looking like he's hardly slept at all. He grunts and groans and it’s odd how Harry can nearly make out what he’s trying to say, as if it’s a whole new language they’ve learned overnight Harry sometimes groans back at him just to make Niall smile and it's nice to see some of the old Niall in the very new version of him.

It normally doesn’t take him very long to liven up, senses slowly coming back to him the longer he’s awake and within an hour or two he can speak a little bit faster and walk in a straight line without bumping into things. 

“Come on,” Harry coos at him and pulls him by the hand into the bathroom. He sometimes smells a bit in the morning so Harry sets him under the spray while he brushes his teeth, checking the way he looks a bit peaky too in the mirror before climbing carefully in beside him, letting the water soak into his hair and down his back. 

He can see some of Niall coming back to him, eyes brightening as he comes in close so he can sniff at Harry's neck. He's honestly used to it by now; the tentative smelling and little licks over his skin before he starts to suck. Harry's had to be creative with the places he lets Niall gnaw at now and again. Niall’s favourite by far are his fingers and Harry tries not to think why as he sucks three of them into his mouth, sighing to himself as he wonders when dead people sucking on his fingers started to do it for him. 

He suds up some orange gel instead, willing his half hard on to go away and runs the soap up over Niall’s chest and neck and down his arms. He can't scrub away the sickly grey pallor Niall’s taken on but he’s running over a plan to nick Louis’ fake tan stash so Niall won’t look just as deathly, not that anyone would notice anyway. 

By the time their shower’s over Niall’s blinking at him slowly, smile coming back to his face and even though he’s still running at a degree higher than normal he looks cosy and comfortable in one of Harry’s old jumpers, drooping over one shoulder as he sits on the edge of the bed and watches Harry get dressed. 

Harry sort of hates himself for it but he’s never wanted to kiss him more. 

Niall raises an eyebrow at him and Harry trips over his own feet to stand beside his knees. Niall’s thumbs are warm where they slot against his hips, rubbing over the jut of his bone and making Harry’s knees weak. 

Niall keeps shooting him this hopeful look but Harry steps away, feeling cold where Niall’s hands had just been. 

“Let’s go find breakfast,” he says instead and Niall’s eyes droop slightly, food long lost it’s appeal to him, even when he’s pretending. 

He shuffles behind him, surprisingly deft for being so slow, sidestepping the shoe that Harry manages to stumble over and pastes a surprisingly genuine smile on his face as they slip into the kitchen part of the suite. The rest of them are there, sprawled out across the messy living area.

“I thought it was vampires that died with a stake to the heart?” Harry can’t help but ask Louis when he sees what he’s doing. Niall stays near the mini fridge, busying himself with flicking on the cheap kettle they've got. The sound of it fills the hotel room quickly. 

Louis shrugs one shoulder and doesn’t lift his head from where he’s scraping a steak knife up over the end of a mop. The mop end shakes with every splinter he breaks off, chipping away until it’s a sharp point. 

“Monster’s a monster, isn’t it?” he asks, his voice a little dry. 

“Not when they come after you,” Zayn pipes up. He’s got a chef’s knife on his knee and a tatty novel on the other, sliding seamlessly into apocalyptic warrior like he was born for it while he dabbles in some literature. Harry can’t believe them. 

“What if they’re not all that bad?” Niall asks and Harry nearly breaks his neck to look round at him. He has a jar of nutella in his hand and Harry can see it shake as he stares them all down. 

His voice is gravelly but not in the same way Louis’ is and it’s so much more noticeable once they’re outside of their room and with the others. Niall’s skin is nearly the same tone as the wallpaper behind his head and the jar clatters as he sets it on the counter. 

Louis gapes at him from his spot on the floor, fingers tightening around the wood in his hand. Harry feels a surge of paternal instinct and he takes a step sideways as if it’s going to stop Louis launching his makeshift weapon at them like a javelin. 

Liam scoffs from his place on the sofa and Harry startles because he had thought he had been asleep. 

“Have you never seen a zombie film before?” he asks quietly. “They’re always bad.” 

Niall nods, sinking back into the counter. He looks at his feet and says so quietly Harry doesn’t think the others will hear. “Yeah, you must be right. Everything‘s just like the movies.” 

Harry hears though and his voice is like ice, slow and scratchy and it makes Harry glance around at the rest of them to gauge their reaction. Liam looks unsettled but Louis just goes back to shaping his spike. 

Niall turns quietly, pulling his elbows in and he nearly looks like an old man, curled in on himself with Harry’s knitwear washing him out. He shuffles back to the room slowly and Harry watches him the whole way until he shuts the door with a snap and leaves him with the others. 

“Is he alright?” Zayn asks quietly, glancing up from his book again to peer curiously across the room at him. He looks a bit bedraggled, hair floppy and knotted on the top of his head. 

“Yeah,” Harry grins at him, smile feeling tight on his face. Harry feels a bit sick as he looks over their weapons again, reminding himself that they’re getting prepared to use them against people like Niall. “He’s just tired, we’re not sleeping very well.” 

Louis snorts from his spot on the floor but Harry ignores him, backing out of the room, tripping on the same shoe again before he manages to get through the door. Niall’s standing forlornly in the middle of the hotel room and offers him a weak smile. 

“Was gonna phone my mum,” he says slowly and Harry waits until he finishes, holding his breath until his chest feels tight. “But phone lines are down.” 

And that’s when the panic properly starts to kick in.

*

Most of their crew go home on Day Four, taking a chance that the airport is still somehow open, Paul doesn’t let them go and Harry’s beginning to doubt his faith in a rescue but outside seems a bit scary now that they’ve made a home indoors. All the staff from the hotel leave too so Harry doesn’t get any more mints on his pillow. He does find the linen closet though and there’s something sparking off in his brain that makes him lift a couple of sheets and extra towels to bring back to the room with him.

Paul scolds him again for being out of the room and Harry takes in how stressed he looks, phone clenched in his hand as he tries to contact someone on the _outside_ even though it’s no use. Harry feels bad for him because he’s worried about his children and he’s worried about the boys. Harry’s trying to forget about anything outside their suite, blocking out the fact that he has a family at home that may or may not be undead, just like Niall. He’s left his phone in the couch cushions, not that it would be much use now and disappears anytime Louis mentions trying to get in contact with home. Liam watches the news religiously but it’s getting tiresome, the same three news reports on a loop, telling them what’s happened and how no one knows how to help. 

A few people still left in the hotel move in next door, taking refuge in the top floor like they’ve done. Harry isn’t sure if he takes that as a good sign or not but he smiles at Mr and Mrs Jonston (in Melbourne for their second honeymoon) when they give them some boards to put on their windows. They seem sweet, if a bit kooky but Liam thinks it’s the best idea ever and produces a hammer out of somewhere, pushing it into Harry’s hand with a strict order to stick them up. He’s not even going to ask where he’s found enough nails for them. 

“What -” Niall asks and it’s something Harry’s noticed he’s doing now, talking slower than usual and with a gravelly tone that sounds like he’s been chain smoking fifty a day for the past ten years. “For?” 

“Keep the sun out?” Harry shrugs because he isn’t really sure what they’re for either. A zombie’s hardly going to see an open window ten floors up and decide that, yes, that’s exactly the room he’s going to plunder for some brains. 

Niall glares at him nervously, like he can read his mind and Harry goes back to singing The Bee Gees in his head in case Niall somehow _can_ read his mind. He’s never seen that in a movie either but you never know; if he was using movies for his frame of reference he should be dead by now anyway.. 

“Sca-ry,” Niall breathes out and the gaps in the middle of his words sound like he’s hiccuping, Harry’s going to have to remember to use that as an excuse when Louis interrogates them over dinner of plain pasta.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees but puts the boards up anyway. Niall trips across the room to him and he seems shorter than before, shoulders rounded in on himself as he holds up a hand to help him. Harry grins at him, bending in to run his lips across his temple in a gesture of thanks. It’s something that he wouldn’t have thought twice about Before but Niall’s shoulders tense again and Harry’s brain jars, half of it reminding him that Niall’s technically dead (he’s 60% sure) and that that probably isn’t normal any more. 

He hammers in the nails easily, Niall watching on. His hands have gnarled a bit, fingers crooking in but he keeps the boards steady enough that Harry doesn’t hurt himself. 

When they’re done the room is dark, a tiny gap at the top of the window letting the only light in. It’s slightly cooler but the air feels thicker, like just the fact they know they can’t open the window is making it stifling already. Harry strips off his jumper anyway. 

“You ok?” Harry asks when he turns around and Niall shakes his head, plopping down onto the end of the bed and taking the corner of one of the blankets into his hands again. He runs it through his fingers for a moment, staring at Harry with huge round eyes before he picks it up to his mouth to chew on. 

Harry watches him for a moment, muscles frozen and he’s sure that his face is a picture of ‘what the fuck’ but Niall doesn’t seem to care any more as he slobbers over the corner of the spare blanket. 

“Use your words, Niall,” Harry finally chokes out and Niall’s eyebrows twitch, face twisting into something that’s definitely Old Niall. He’s been acting weird all day, ever since they walked in on the weapon factory in the living room and Harry knows something’s playing on his mind. 

“I don’t like,” Niall drawls out. “The boards.”

“No,” Harry agrees and steps forward. He lifts another one of the blankets and looks around the room. He was going to keep them for emergencies, like if someone needed a bandage or one of them went into labour (he’s preparing for the worst, ok?) but Niall looks pathetic, perched on the edge of the messy bed with a wedge of wool stuffed between his teeth. 

“Do you want to build a fort?” Harry asks and Niall’s face turns up to him, back to something that could pass as Old Niall as he works his lips into a grin. “So we don’t need to see the boards?” 

“Ye-ah,” Niall hiccups again and Harry wonders how long he’s going to be able to talk for. As slow as he is, he doesn’t want him to be completely mute. 

He takes the spare pillows from the wardrobe and the fluffy bathrobes from the bathroom because it’s too warm for them to wear them and lays them down on the already thick carpet. Niall watches on, kicking the pillows from the bed down and pulling over the lamp from one of the bedside tables. They use a chair from the table by the window and by the time they’ve stripped the bed completely they’ve got a pretty nifty blanket fort set up in the middle of the room. 

Niall pushes him in and they stumble a bit, crawling over the layers of sheets and blankets into the centre. It’s hazy and dim inside, the lamp obscured by the fancy golden throw that was over the bottom of the bed when they first moved in and it smells of cheap fabric conditioner but Niall’s grinning at him, curling up on one of the pillows and pushing his toes under Harry’s knee. 

“Tha-nks,” Niall says quietly, eyebrows furrowing and he pitches forward suddenly. Harry’s heart picks up, seeing a flash of teeth and he tries to forget everything he’s ever read on the internet before because this is still Niall. Niall who’s still trying to be sweet underneath all the creepy, hungry gazes Harry sometimes catches him giving him. 

“You’re welcome,” Harry grins at him and pushes his hand onto Niall’s knee. He’s burning underneath the thick fabric of his sweatpants and Harry’s stripped down to a pair of denim cut offs the past two days but Niall sometimes keeps shivering so he doesn’t mention the heat radiating off him or that Niall probably shouldn’t be wearing two pairs of socks. 

Niall stares at his hand for a moment, picking at his fingers like he’s not sure what to do with them. Harry’s heart picks up again, watching as Niall pulls at one of his knuckles and the way he licks his lips, squeezing his nail between his thumb and forefinger. 

“You ok?” Harry asks him and it comes out quiet, like once they’re inside the fort they can’t be too loud, they can’t break the magic of it. 

Niall nods and when he glances up Harry’s breath catches because he looks so normal in the pale light, his skin looks a normal colour, pinking up around his ears and he smiles at him, lips cracking under the pressure on his tight skin. 

“Harry,” he whispers and Harry nods, answering whatever unanswered question was weighing underneath his name. Niall smiles again and tips forward, bringing his feet underneath him so he can get some leverage even with the low ceiling of their fort. 

He breathes hotly over Harry’s chin, as if he’s waiting for Harry to push him away but he catches his eye again, big and round and not as grey in this light so Harry reaches out to touch his shoulder and it barely takes a second before he’s melting against him, rubbing his nose across Harry’s jaw and then pushing up into a kiss.

Harry gives into it, falling back onto an elbow and pulling Niall into his lap so he can kiss him back better because it’s been four _stressful_ days and kissing Niall is finally a nice distraction. Niall makes a noise, he sounds a little bit on the edge of desperate so Harry kisses him harder, licking into his mouth and meeting where his tongue is hot and insistent.

“Missed you,” Niall murmurs against his lips, low and throaty and he rolls his hips, pushing against where Harry’s already hard against his zip. 

Harry doesn’t really get what he means but it doesn’t matter because Niall’s pushing one hand into his hair, tugging at it the way he likes and the other’s going down to press against his dick, fingers tucking into the waistband of his shorts.

Niall pulls away, breathing raggedly between them as he works on getting Harry’s jeans unbuttoned. It’s only then that Harry sort of thinks how sharing spit with an infected person is probably the number one no-no in zombie 101 but Niall looks up again, eyes finally catching some sort of spark and Harry can’t stop, because he loves Niall too much, undead or not. 

“Gonna,” he sucks a mark on Harry’s neck because who’s going to see now? Harry turns his head, giving him better access, heart racing as Niall scrapes his teeth against the delicate skin of his pulse point. “Suck.”

Harry nods, it’s pretty obvious what he’s going to suck. He lifts his hips, kicking away his jeans and underwear and letting Niall sink down, spreads himself out across the blankets so he’s level with his dick. 

For a split second Harry worries what Niall’s going to do. His teeth look awfully sharp from this angle and even though he has a lovely, warm and wet mouth, Harry would rather keep his dick attached to his body. 

“Don’t worry,” Niall snorts and Harry pants out a few breaths as he speaks. “Won’t bite it off.” 

Thankfully Niall never asks why Harry starts to hum Saturday Night Fever.

*

On Day Five Paul goes down stairs and doesn’t come back. 

*

It gets a bit tense after that. Liam tries to take charge but Harry can see Louis thrumming with nervous energy, begging silently to be let loose. They’ve been cooped up for nearly a week and Harry can see the cracks beginning to form. 

He tries to keep to himself. Niall keeps to their room, curled up in their fort and only getting up when he needs to use the bathroom - because apparently the undead don’t eat but still need to pee. 

Harry doesn’t ask, just pushes him towards the shower because he’s not sure if it’s the lack of fresh air or if Niall’s just getting worse. 

Niall starts being quiet, quieter than usual so he doesn’t have to speak in his new voice. Harry had seen him staring into a mirror after he had brushed his teeth, Harry realises. At first he had thought he was practising his scary expressions - until he realised that was just his natural expression now. 

“Maybe you should start drinking more water?” Harry says to him, sitting down in front of him cross legged. He switches the lamp on in their little home and it gives Niall a bit of a glow again. “Keep hydrated.” 

Niall gives him a look and Harry pulls a funny face at him, trying to make him laugh. He gets a thin smile in return but it’s better than nothing. 

“I stole this out of Zayn’s room,” Harry tells him and shakes the bottle of moisturiser at him. Niall watches him warily but doesn’t object when Harry uncaps it and squeezes a handful onto his palm. “It might make your skin feel better?” 

“Don’t,” Niall breathes out, throat rusty. “Mind.” 

“No?” Harry asks and his voice goes up an octave by mistake. He doesn’t want to tell Niall that his peeling skin is starting to gross him out yet. 

Niall shakes his head but shuffles closer to let Harry get his hands on him. There’s a few bruises on his arms but Harry skims his hand past them, smoothing on the cream in the hopes of making his skin a little less dry. It’s like sunburn, peeling off in patches and it’s making Niall look patchy, skin not fully growing back in it’s place. 

The cream is cool but it soon warms up on Niall’s skin and Harry plays with it, swirling it around his elbows and drawing little designs as it dries on his bicep. Niall watches him, a smile finally growing onto his face and his lips crack again. 

Harry ducks in and presses his lips against him. Just a quick dry brush of their mouths and Niall follows him when he pulls back, mouth opening in a little sigh that Harry only hears because they’re so close. 

“Moisturise first,” Harry laughs and smears a dollop of the cream over his face. Niall closes his eyes, letting Harry do whatever he wants, rub his thumbs over the ridge of his cheekbones, so much more prominent now even though it’s only been a few days. He should find some vaseline for Niall's cracked lips, he can see the broken lines of red blood underneath the raised skin and Harry stares at it for a moment, wondering if he would get infected if it broke properly. 

It shocks him to think that he might be ok with that, Niall and him zombies together. 

“See? Smoother now,” Harry says, trying to shake the thoughts out of his head. 

Niall nods, picking at a bit of raised skin on his thumb. He glances up at Harry before jamming it into his mouth to nibble on. 

“Do you think I’ll get infected?” Harry asks him, watching as he pulls at the skin with his teeth. 

Niall shrugs, gone silent as he gnaws on his thumb. He doesn’t really look like he wants to be talking about this. 

“Did it hurt?” And it comes out in a whisper. Niall pauses, letting go of his thumb with a pop. 

“Would hurt worse,” he growls. “Without you.” 

Harry feels his heart swell and feels a bit pathetic for a moment but when he looks up at Niall again he’s back to chewing on his hangnail like he hasn‘t just made Harry‘s day.

“I think it would be pretty shit this side of it too,” Harry tells him and Niall doesn’t even look like he’s listening, too distracted with eating his own skin. “Without you.” 

He presses his fingers to the papery skin of his throat, just because he can and Niall smiles around his fingers, soft and slow. 

*

“They’re going to kill me,” Niall whispers, late into Night Eight, so late it’s nearly morning, when he thinks that Harry’s asleep. Harry contemplates staying quiet, letting him tell him softly what he’s thinking but Niall makes a noise, a little pathetic grunt at the back of his throat that Harry can’t ignore.

“They won’t,” Harry reassures him, rolling over until he can brush his lips over the papery skin of Niall’s temple. His eyes flutter and he curls into it, burying his face into the space between the pillow and Harry’s neck, breathing damply against the skin there. “I won’t let them.” 

It sounds choked but Harry means it. He wouldn’t let them get anywhere near Niall, Zayn with his sharpened knife and Louis with his spear and Liam’s crazy plans. 

Niall stays quiet and Harry runs his fingers down his back, feeling him twitch and shudder with every heave of his breath. 

“Do zombies sleep?” Harry asks him quietly, mainly to distract him but also because he’s started to wonder. There’s a noise outside their blanket fort and Harry thinks he can hear Louis’ voice. He wonders what they’re doing up so early but hours blend into one when they’ve got nothing to do and their sleeping patterns are all fucked up. Niall moves, kicking his feet so they tangle with Harry’s ankles under the sheet and bringing him back to the question. 

“Yeah,” Niall answers after a moment and it comes out in a long growl, like he’s sticking words on the start of every breath he takes just so he can get them out. Harry smiles at him when Niall dips his eyebrows, asking without having to speak why he’s so curious.

“You’re always awake before I get up now,” Harry murmurs and shuffles closer so they’re sharing the same pillow. Niall’s eyebrows dip into a deep frown and his eyes are clouding over, turning more grey as if he’s upset. Harry reaches out suddenly, scratching his fingers into the tuft of hair that’s growing just behind his ear. Niall looks torn between nuzzling into his palm and biting at his hand.

“I think we need to get you a distraction,” Harry hums and the noises coming from Niall’s throat are loud to match his. It drowns out Louis’ voice, echoing through the hotel room as he gets louder. “Something to do while I’m asleep, yeah?”

Harry feels sleepy now, eyes drooping as he rhythmically scritches at Niall’s head, ignoring the fine dust of skin that comes off with his fingernails, it’s gross, and he knows it is but he supposes it’s better than huge chunks of decaying flesh. He shudders and Niall looks up at him concerned for a moment, eyes brightening, before he turns his head to mouth at the delicate inside of Harry’s wrist.

“And so you don’t bite me all the time,” Harry murmurs but Niall ignores him, licking over the vein and clamping his teeth to the narrow bone there. It’s getting harder to hide the bruises, especially since the hotel room is a furnace now they can’t open the windows. The rest of them have taken to wearing as little as possible and Harry can feel the way they watch him, odd under a layer of long sleeve tops and shorts. Niall doesn’t feel the heat, splitting his time between his wardrobe of tank tops that show off too much greying skin and a few of Harry’s jumpers that he’s got tucked into the back of his suitcase. 

“What about a scratching post?” Harry asks, letting Niall suck on his wrist for a moment longer. It’s kind of hot actually, in a way his brain still won’t let him process properly. Harry knows it’s a self-preservation thing, once he starts actually believing he’s alright with the possibility of Niall eating him then he might actually lose it. “When we got our new kitten we had to get –“

Niall snaps his teeth, baring them at Harry and he shrinks back, wrenching his hand away from the vicinity of Niall’s mouth.

“Not a cat,” Niall snarks, surprisingly fast for how slow he’s been talking lately. Harry wonders for a split second if he’s putting it on. He pushes it out of his mind as fast as he can because he’s still not a hundred percent on the mind reading thing.

“Yeah,” Harry sighs and rolls onto his back. It’s stifling inside their fort but he takes a few gulping breaths anyway. “But I haven’t really had much previous experience with zombies, y’know.”

“Infected,” Niall corrects him, tone going back to his normal one, well as normal as it’s been since The Change.

“Sorry,” Harry corrects himself and angles his head so he can see the way Niall’s smiling at him, outburst forgotten about already. “Infected.”

Harry stays quiet for a moment, listening to the groan of Niall’s breathing and the voices getting louder outside. Niall takes his opportunity to suck on the edge of the pillow, gnawing at it with his blunt teeth. Harry’ll give him something later, maybe an old shirt that smells of him until he can get his hands on Zayn’s leather jacket – it’s not like he’ll need it, it’s sweltering at this time of year.

“What are you two doing in here? You awake yet?” Louis suddenly calls from the door and Harry sits up, shaking Niall’s legs from between his own. Niall doesn’t bother moving, just rolls over so his head is half covering the big wet patch from his drool. “Have you built a _fort_?”

Harry can feel himself blush and then suddenly he can see Louis’ dirty bare feet curl into the carpet near the door to their little cocoon. He ducks down and there’s a smirk on his face that Harry would rather wasn’t directed at him. His eyes are bright and Harry wonders when the last time he slept was. 

“How very lost boys of you.”

“If you’re here to pick a fight,” Harry tells him but his voice is shaky. Louis’ face softens and he bends down so he’s eye level with Harry.

“Of course not,” he says quietly and tries to poke his head further in the door. Harry selfishly wants to push him away so he can’t see Niall, part protective and part possessive. “Hiya Niall, where have you been? Haven’t seen you in ages, mate.”

“Here,” Niall answers after a beat, breath long and shallow, harsh at the end but better than what he’s taken to speak to Harry with. He takes another audible breath and Harry looks back at Louis, watching his reaction in case he speaks again. He doesn’t and Louis’ eyes narrow slightly, moving back to Harry’s face with an unreadable expression.

“Something you needed me for?” Harry asks, trying to change the subject without sounding rude. It’s getting close to cabin fever between them all and Harry really doesn’t want to be the brunt of a tirade of pranking just because Louis is bored.

“Wanted your opinion on going on a food run,” Louis tells him matter-of-factly, eyes snapping up to Niall again. Harry can feel him shift behind him, foot digging him in the back accidently as he moves but Harry refuses to turn around, as if ignoring it will mean it’s not happening. Louis’ eyes come back to Harry’s face, as if he knows what he’s doing. “Zayn doesn’t want us to do it, thinks it might be too dangerous,” Louis continues, “But Liam’s not sure how much longer the electric’s gonna stay on for. It could be fun? A change of scenery, you know? Might do us some good.”

Harry tries to keep track and stares at him blankly. “What do you need me for then?”

Louis looks put out for a moment, “I need your fluttery eyelashes, Haz, need to get Zayn on board,” he strokes a hand out over Harry’s hair and he feels Niall’s foot in his back again as he rears up. “Niall, you’re invited too, chill.”

Niall makes a noise and Harry coughs over it, turning it into a laugh but Louis’ eyes them both warily for a moment before he opens his mouth again.

“I don’t want to pull rank here,” Louis tells him and Harry can tell he’s trying to soften the blow of whatever he’s going to say next. “But both of you are doing a very good job of acting like the babies of the group.”

Harry bites his lip, willing himself to keep the angry retort of “we are the babies of the group!” inside his mouth. Niall makes another noise behind him and Harry can nearly decipher it as a similar protest. Louis grins at him, as if he can tell what they’re trying to say and nods to himself. His gaze lingers on Niall again before dragging his eyes around the blankets surrounding them. 

“I’m not going to ask,” he shrugs and waves his hand around at their set up. “Desperate times and all that.”

“What’s that meant to mean?” Harry asks and Niall’s moving again. He sticks a hand out automatically, catching Niall across the chest and he settles against it, hand coming up to pull at Harry’s hands. He’s a bit fascinated with his rings lately too, even though Harry knows they aren’t tasty for him, too metallic apparently.

“It just smells –“ Louis waggles his eyebrows, standing back up onto his feet again and Harry has to crane his neck to follow his shit eating grin. “An awful lot like boy in there, y’know.”

Harry turns crimson, untangling himself from Niall to crawl out after him. He knows what Louis’ getting at and he’s desperate to tell him otherwise. “ _Does not!_ ”

Louis snorts and trails back to the door. It’s cool out in the expanse of the room, air a degree or two cooler than inside their fortress. Harry shivers and Louis laughs again, dancing out of the room to tell the rest. Harry swears to himself and when he looks over his shoulder Niall is watching him innocently, corner of the blanket they’re using as the door in his mouth, slowly leeching a darker blue from the wet of his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Harry calls after him, taking another step forward on his knees. His stomach is in pieces and it’s a sure sign that he shouldn’t be even contemplating going downstairs. “Alright Louis, I’ll come!”

He hears a yahoo from one of the adjoining rooms and it sounds like a bell of foreshadowing doom.

*

“Are you going to stay here?” Harry asks him. He’s dressed up and he knows that Louis got the idea out of a movie or something. He has a bread knife strapped to his belt and Louis made him tuck his jeans into his socks, stretching out the elastic of them around the denim so the design doesn’t look anything like the red robins they’re supposed to be. It’s still roasting but Zayn had murmured something about how he was better covered up and Harry had believed him, even though he’s had enough skin to skin contact with Niall the past week to be in trouble. 

Part of him wants Niall to come with him, in case he has some sort of zombie radar that can detect them before Harry will be able to but there’s a bigger part of him that’s worried Niall would just join ranks with them. Slip away while Harry wasn’t looking and find a little family of zombies to terrorise the place with.

“Yes,” Niall groans out and looks very much like a child that’s just been told off.

“Look,” Harry tries to bargain with him. “I’ll bring you something nice back ok, we’ll only be half an hour, you’ll hardly miss me.”

Niall glares at him and Harry tries to shake off the feeling like he’s a parent in this situation. He presses his lips to Niall’s forehead and gives him a grin. “If I find a spare arm or something, you’ve got first dibs.”

It’s supposed to be a joke but the way Niall’s eyes brighten up makes Harry feel a bit sick.

“Come on!” Liam yells from the hallway and Harry stands up, feet feeling clumpy in a pair of his boots because he hasn’t worn anything on his feet in ages. He makes sure the knife is still there, strung up to his hip and joins them out in the hallway. Louis has war paint smudged across his cheekbones, leftover kohl from Lou’s kit that she’s left behind, and Zayn very much looks like he wants to be back in bed. Harry focuses on the idea that maybe he’s a zombie too, chewing on Liam’s fingers behind closed doors and it distracts him from the pang of worry he feels over Lou, hoping she got home alright. 

Harry shakes his head to get rid of the thought, two undead band mates would be too much to handle. 

“Let’s do this!” Louis cries and wrenches open the hotel room door. The corridor is deserted and Harry snorts because Louis’ acting as if he’s going out to battle, not into an empty hallway.

“You’re an idiot,” Zayn mutters but follows him out the door anyway. Harry notes that he stays quite close to him though and it makes him smile. Liam follows on behind them, hands up and fingers tight around a weapon he’s made out of a set of forks. It looks very pointy but Harry’s not exactly sure what he’s going to do with it. He supposes it’s better than Louis’ bleach bombs that he’s made out of toilet cleaner; he has a toilet brush under his arm that just looks disgusting, not very dangerous. 

“Keep to the wall,” Louis advises them and Zayn rolls his eyes, side stepping him so he’s walking down the exact centre of the hallway.

“Where’s Niall then?” Zayn asks and Harry had hoped that this little mission would be done in silence but Liam’s glancing at him over his shoulder and Louis perks up from the front so he assumes that this might’ve been part of the plan all along.

“Didn’t feel like it,” Harry shrugs and keeps his eyes on the carpet they’re walking down. There’s a design on it, black swirls that would be hypnotic if Harry stared at them long enough. “He’s, um, – not feeling great at the minute. He thought he’d give it a miss.”

“Well,” Liam says quietly. “We’re all not really up to shape.”

“I didn’t exactly want to come either,” Harry tells him and there’s something hard under his tone. Zayn raises his eyebrows at him.

“It’s alright,” Zayn tells him. They come to a stop at the lifts and look at each other.

“We should probably take the stairs,” Liam mutters and they all nod, walking over to the large set of double doors at the side instead. They’re dark, the only light coming in from tiny windows at the top of each landing way but they’re able to find their way down. It’s so much more creepy in the echo-y stairwell so they fall into silence and Harry’s glad that doesn’t have to continue on with their conversation.

It’s creepy how quiet downstairs is. The fountain in the corner of the foyer drips water, loud plinks of them hitting the marble bottom since it’s been shut off and half drained. One of the windows is broken, a large crack spider webbing out; it gives way to a hole near the corner and Harry tries not to think how easily a person would fit through it. One of the sofas is pushed up against the doors and Harry wonders if it would do any good. 

“Kitchen’s this way.” Liam nods over towards the restaurant and Harry tries to think of how many days ago he and Niall had watched the news there but they’ve all blended in together. It seems like ages ago but it must only be a few days at most. He crunches through glass as they pass the bar, Louis stopping to grab a bottle of whiskey there, the mini bar upstairs long since run dry. Liam rolls his eyes at him but he appraises the bottle with a gleam in his eyes. 

The kitchen is a mess, plates of food growing blue fur on one side of a huge industrial counter and one of the fridges is open, what’s left inside going spoiled. 

“Lift as much as you can carry,” Liam orders them, shaking out a holdall he’s fashioned out of towels. Harry searches some of the huge larders, trying to find something that Niall would like but he knows it doesn’t matter, hotels don’t normally serve up human brains. He forgoes one of the fridges, Louis’ just found a bottle of orange juice that hasn’t been opened yet and is making a show of draining the bottle, and heads to the freezer instead. 

It’s freezing inside and Harry takes a moment to sigh out, shoulders relaxing and sweat cooling at the back of his neck. He glances around, past the huge bags of peas and buckets of ice and finds a huge rail at the back, grinning when he reaches out to unhook the huge hank of meat off the nearest peg. It’s as close as Harry’s going to find to an actual person so he hefts it out of the freezer, grabbing a tub of ice cream as he slips back into the main kitchen. 

“What the fuck is that for?” Zayn asks as soon as he sees him, arms full of tinned carrot and coriander soup.“You planning on making us a Sunday roast or something?” 

Harry flushes and glances down at the meat under his arm. “You never know, alright?” 

Louis snorts and tugs his bag over his shoulder. Harry hears the clink of a few bottles of wine while Zayn glares at him.

“Sure, just grab a bag of potatoes there, I wonder if they have any Yorkshire puds,” Zayn keeps on going. 

(“Don’t say Yorkshire pudding,” Louis moans.)

“Right,” Harry replies sarcastically and eyes the slab of frozen puff pastry Zayn’s got under his arm. “And are we going to win this weeks episode of Great Apocalyptic Bake Off?”

“Oh, fuck off, Harry,” Zayn snaps and throws the pack down. It skids off the shiny counter before falling with a loud thump on the floor.

Liam pops his head out of a pantry, a handful of teabags at the ready to throw at Louis. “Let’s not fight, boys, no point in that eh?” 

“You‘ll not get Star Baker with that attitude, Zayn!” Harry snaps because he’s getting riled up. He’s been acting so serene for Niall’s sake upstairs and five minutes without him and they’re all fighting. He hadn’t realised how unhinged they had been getting while he was in his fort. Harry wants very much to be back in his fort. 

Zayn squares his shoulders and he’s about to say something back when there’s a creak behind them. Harry freezes, snapping his head to the corner of the fridge. “Liam?” 

“Yeah,” he whispers and he’s too close to be the noise. Harry’s heart seizes.

“What is it?” Louis hisses but he’s not quiet enough. There’s another creak and then something that sounds eerily familiar but completely wrong at the same time. 

“Is it a -” Liam asks and then he makes a noise, half a yell, half squeal as he jumps away.

“Zombie!” Zayn shrieks and then the thing is coming after them. Gnarled hands and pale skin. There’s something red down it’s face, it’s mouth an empty black space as it leers open and Harry feels sick, heart thundering behind his ribs.

He turns quickly, heel of his boot squeaking, sliding on something on the ground, squashing a mouldy banana Liam had dropped as they all run for the door. It clatters after them, sending plates and jars and cutlery everywhere. Liam’s yelling, loud and incoherent and it’s making Harry confused. There’s hands on his back and he yells out but it’s only Zayn, steering him out the door and through the restaurant. 

They crunch through more glass and Louis stumbles, whacking his side off the edge of the bar. 

Liam swears somewhere behind them and Zayn’s fingers clench at his arm, hard enough to draw blood, and Harry focuses on the sting of pain as he trips over the threshold into the main foyer. 

It makes a terrible noise behind them, gut wrenching and loud in the empty room. It echoes off the marble and reverberates through the room and Harry can only think of sweet Niall and how the noises he makes sometimes sound so close to these. 

They slip and skid, the four of them finally coming together as they reach the lift and Liam’s jabbing his thumb into the button, panting and clutching at Zayn’s other arm as the numbers count down from nine on the little screen above the door. 

There’s another roar behind them and Harry has to turn around, he has to check that it’s not Niall, suddenly gone feral when Harry’s out of the room for five minutes. 

He’s frozen when he spins, shoulders locking and feet sticking to the floor as he stares at the creature looming behind them. It’s quick and Harry’s been prepared for a looming figure on the horizon, arms out straight as he staggers towards them but this is completely different. It shuffles towards them, scuttling on feet that barely lift off the ground but with an unexpected speed that sends terror up his spine. His jaw drops as he pulls his eyes over the person, taking in the familiar grey pallor and the shiny, dead in the eyes gaze and behind the red, the sticky blood red over his chin and cheeks, he recognises him as the lovely Mr Jonston from next door. 

Liam’s yelling out again and Harry thinks he is too but he can’t process if there’s any sound coming out of his open mouth. 

Behind him, he vaguely registers the doors dinging open and he’s gets a waft of Mr Jonston’s bad breath before he’s being yanked back, lift doors sliding shut just in the nick of time. 

“Holy fucking Christ,” Liam swears, sliding down the wall of the lift and curling into the corner. Zayn hits the button for their floor, stumbling back into Harry as it shudders into action. Louis looks shell shocked in front of him and Harry can’t speak either to make him feel better. There’s red leeching into his back, soaking into his t-shirt and Harry lurches over to him, grabbing it in his hands before he realises it’s just red wine. Louis collapses against him anyway and they stand there, four of them touching as the lift edges up the hotel quickly, elevator music tinkling away in the background as they all fight to catch their breath. It’s so surreal that Harry wants to pinch himself.

The only thing that’s rolling around his head, like the yellow ticker tape of the news report on Day One, is Niall. He needs to make sure that he’s alright, that he hasn’t suddenly gone down that monstrous route like their next door neighbours.

So when they make it back to their room, all of them walking in a sort of square huddle, Harry breaks away from them as they start to barricade the door, heading for his room instead. 

“No,” Harry breathes once he’s flung himself through the door. He nearly takes down half of the fortress as he falls into it, fighting his way through the duvets to get inside, only to find it empty. “Niall?” he pulls up a few pillows, damp and soft and definitely not hiding Niall.

“Niall?” Harry calls and flings himself up towards the bathroom. It’s empty too, even the bath when Harry wrenches open the curtain. Harry goes into panic mode, imagining him slipping out the door when they had been downstairs, finding his own little pack of zombies to slouch and shuffle the halls of the hotel with, searching for their own prey. Speeding up and devolving into something more feral with every chunk of flesh he eats. 

Harry feels his heart thump in his throat as he thinks of Niall chasing after someone, blood spattered over his face like Mr Jonston downstairs, eyes empty and deranged as they rip their victim limb from limb. 

“Fuck,” Harry sobs and staggers out of the bathroom. He drops the hank of meat onto the bare bed, the only thing he had managed to get out of there and he doesn’t think about the boxes of nice sweet cereal or the salty bag of peanuts he had found before they were attacked, all left behind in the kitchen. 

His hand is sticky and stinks when he lifts it to his face, pressing his thumbs into his eyes as he cries. He knows he’s being loud and he doesn’t look up when the door opens, creaks slowly on the hinge and bangs against the wall. There’s a thump on the floor and Harry only pushes his hands in tighter, white spots growing in the dark as he sobs because if this is the monster back again then he’s just going to give up. His side aches from a stitch and his legs are barely keeping him on his feet so he can’t run anymore, he just can’t. 

“Ha-” Comes a grunt and there’s a shuddery breath, a sharp whistle like it’s going through a sheet of rough cut metal. “Harry?” 

Harry collapses then, knees giving out on him as he falls to the floor and when he opens his eyes he sees Niall sitting at the base of the wardrobe, legs tucked underneath him and a hand on the carpet as if he’s about to crawl out. 

“Where the fuck were you?” Harry asks and it’s meant to sound demanding and stern but it’s quiet, relieved. 

“Scratching post,” Niall shrugs and lifts his other hand, one of Harry’s dress shoes in his hand, clear teeth marks in the leathery toe. “Found - chew toy.” Harry lets out a shuddery breath, half a laugh and rolls onto his knees, crawling over to meet him in the middle of the room. 

“I’m so happy to see you,” Harry says quietly and it shocks him how much he means it. He grabs Niall around the scruff of the neck, pulling him into a hug, crushing at his shoulders as he tries to keep him as close to him as possible. Niall laughs, low and rumbly from deep inside his chest and Harry can’t help the way his heart expands. “I’m so happy you’re a cute zombie.” 

“Infected,” Niall corrects but when Harry pulls back he’s grinning, lips splitting up over his teeth and they crack a bit where his skin has gone tight. 

Harry leans in and kisses him, hard and long over his lips. Niall makes a startled noise, a low moan before he’s kissing back, hands coming up to thread through Harry’s hair. He pulls a bit and for a wild moment Harry nearly thinks he’s going to eat him whole. His laugh bubbles up through his stomach, a giddy, hysterical laugh because five minutes ago they were nearly dead but they’re not. 

Well, Harry’s definitely not and Niall’s status is still to be determined. 

 

*

A hand wraps around his foot and Harry shakes awake, panic flooding his chest as he kicks his leg at whoever’s got a grip of him. It’s dark, their lamp gone off at some point and Harry’s disorientated from his sleep. 

“It’s just me, you wanker,” Zayn’s voice comes from outside the fort and Harry sags back down, shoulder digging into Niall’s back where he’s curled up beside him. 

“Sorry,” Harry croaks and clears his throat. He tries to untangle himself, they hadn’t really rebuilt the fort after he had destroyed it yesterday but neither of them could be bothered putting everything back where it belonged so they had gone to sleep in it anyway, ceiling half collapsed and looking more like a nest than a fort. 

He fights his way out of the blankets and grins blearily up at Zayn. 

“Breakfast,” Zayn tells him tersely, eyes flickering over to where Niall’s still asleep, mouth gaping open. He looks dead beside him, chest hardly moving as he breathes and if Harry wasn’t used to it he’s sure his face would look quite like Zayn’s at the minute too. 

“We’ve never had breakfast before,” Harry answers. He’s a bit disorientated, still half asleep and he pats at Niall’s hip, trying to make him move so he looks more alive. 

“Band breakfast meeting,” Zayn amends. “C’mon, hurry up.” 

“That,” Harry clears his throat but Zayn’s already heading towards the door. “That sounds serious.” 

“Bring Niall,” he mutters and then slips out of the room. Harry stares after him, panic settling somewhere before he turns to catch Niall’s eye, bleary and grey and still full of sleep. 

Louis bangs on their door again so they don’t have time to shower and Niall follows him quietly out to the living room where everyone’s gathered around the coffee table and as they sit down Niall slides his hand into Harry’s. 

“Pick your poison,” Louis announces, eyeing their hands for a moment but not commenting on it. He slams a bottle of Jack Daniel’s onto the table and Harry snorts. He's got a half bottle of vodka and some gin behind him too. 

“It’s like seven in the morning,” Harry says even though his watch has stopped a while ago and he has no idea what time it is. 

“It’s five,” Niall starts, harsh in the quiet of the living room. Harry squeezes his hand and the other boys watch him, as if on bated breath. Niall does his little hiccup thing again, breathing in deeply and it sounds like a snore. “O’Clock.”

“Somewhere,” Liam joins in so they say it together. Niall beams at him and it looks a bit gruesome.

“Have you started already?” Louis asks with a laugh and when Niall turns to look at him he quietens abruptly. 

“So-methi-ng like.” It takes him an excruciatingly long time and Harry just grips his hot hand tighter. “That.” 

“Don’t get too crazy there, Niall,” Louis says sarcastically and the bottle clinks with the glass as he clacks it off the rim. “Drink up.” 

He pours out five glasses and passes them around. The glass is cool in Harry’s hand but when he takes a sip, it’s lukewarm.

“What’s this party in aid of?” Harry asks quietly, clearing his throat as he take his first sip. It burns at the back of his throat but he had been ready for it. He glances to the side and Niall’s starting at his glass, contemplating whether or not to drink it. Harry’s not sure what a drunk zombie would be like. 

“Electric went off,” Louis tells him cheerfully, wincing as he gulps at his glass. “Toasting the end of the world.” 

“Brilliant,” Harry mutters and sips at his drink. 

“Water’s going to be next,” Liam sighs and swirls his glass morosely. “And then we’re going to die.” 

“This is a party,” Louis scolds him but pulls him in for a cuddle anyway. 

Zayn rolls his eyes. “So we thought we may as well get really drunk now and think about the fact we’ll all be hungover and dying of thirst later. Go out with a bang, you know?” 

Niall giggles and it comes out distorted. They all look up at him and Harry’s fingers feel numb. He takes another drink, it’s a lot scarier outside of their little fort. 

“Truth or dare? Never have I ever?” Louis asks and when Harry looks up he’s staring right at him. “We don’t have any cards for ring of fire.” 

“Um,” Harry stalls and fiddles with his drink. Louis is topping up his glass again, slugging some into Liam’s glass too. Niall edges closer, tucking himself into Harry’s side. He’s drained his glass and pushed it towards the table again where Louis grins at him and tops him up. 

“This is silly,” Zayn mutters and it looks like he’s swishing the whiskey through his teeth. “We know everything about each other.”

“Never have I ever had a threesome,” Liam pipes up. Louis laughs, waggles his eyebrows at Zayn until he groans and takes another sip of his drink. 

“Zayn, you old dog,” Louis crows. “See, we do know everything about each other, that’s what makes it fun.” 

The thought actually makes Harry sad, it’s like they’re having their final farewell party before they all go and get eaten. Harry gets a flash of Mr Jonston from next door and he shivers. Niall nuzzles into him as if he knows what he’s thinking but Harry doesn’t mind this time and he cocks his head, pushing his cheek into the top of Niall’s head where his hair has gone dry and brittle. 

“We don’t have any secrets though,” Liam says and he looks small tucked all the way into Louis’ side. Louis pokes him in the ribs and suddenly the three of them glance up to the sofa where Niall’s nearly doing the same, burrowing himself into Harry’s side. “Do we?” 

The question lingers in the air for a moment and Harry feels too hot, the side pressed to Niall is sweating and he wishes for a moment he wasn’t wearing such a long sleeved shirt. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-” Harry starts but Niall drains his glass, leaning forward to set it down and he nearly topples off the sofa. Louis snorts and Niall laughs too, rearing back until he’s squished against Harry’s side again. 

“I ha-ve,” Niall says slowly, grizzly and dry. “A secret.”

Louis laughs, rolling his eyes a little as he glances up at him again. “Oh yeah?”

Niall nods, wriggling about until he can pull his ankle underneath his knee. “I’m infected.”

Harry hadn’t even really realised that he had been holding his breath. It comes out in a whoosh and he’s surprised by how relieved he is to have it out in the open. He looks across the coffee table at the other three to watch their reaction. 

They just stare at him in shock, Louis’ face for once blank until Zayn breaks into a loud bark of laughter. 

“What?” he chortles and Harry can feel the way Niall shrinks back against him. Harry isn’t really sure what’s running through their minds but his is muddled, half catching up to the fact that Niall just blabbed their whole secret and it only took him two tumblers worth of whiskey. The rest of his brain is trying to process the fact that they might not believe him. Harry can try to live in his little world of denial but even now it's pretty obvious there's something seriously wrong with Niall.

Liam and Louis join in laughing too, Liam sputtering on his drink and spraying it everywhere.

“Infected with what?” Louis asks, eyes shining brightly. “You got the clap, Nialler?”

Zayn laughs harder and Harry glances down to where Niall’s turning his face into his shoulder. He’s pouting and Harry smiles at that, because he looks pissed. He can tell he’s close to having a huff.

“Not the clap, no,” Harry mutters so Niall doesn’t have to speak.

Liam snorts again. “You turning into a zombie then?”

Harry fidgets with the sleeve of Niall’s shirt. It’s dim in the room and they _have_ been spending most of their time separated away from the rest of the boys but Harry’s beginning to sense that the three of them haven’t been coping as well as they pretended they were. It’s pretty clear there’s something wrong with Niall.

Their laughter turns nervous and Harry sips from his glass so he has something to do. 

“He prefers the term Infected,” Harry tells them, swallowing around the last of his drink and Niall looks up at him, smiling softly before he jams his thumb in his mouth. 

Louis chokes a bit before he laughs again, leaning over the worn wood to crack the bottle off the side of his glass, sloshing more into it before he drops back down onto his haunches. 

“Yeah right,” Louis says through his teeth, eyes widening. “And how is he _infected_?”

“Louis,” Zayn shakes his head and puts on a scandalised voice. “You can’t just ask a guy how he’s a zombie!”

Harry laughs but from the corner of his eye he can see Liam run his hand over his pocket, right over where Harry knows he’s been keeping a knife for the past week. 

“Zom-bie,” Niall moans and Harry’s torn from wanting him to push the point to willing him to shut the fuck up. 

Louis looks up at them again and he’s smiling but there’s a hard edge to it.

“You two have spent too much time in your hovel,” he says slowly and Harry realises that this is their out. That maybe they’ve known for the whole time, letting the pair of them be the children of the group in their fort for the past two weeks. 

“It was a _fort_ ,” Harry insists and there’s a pause where Harry’s heart beats very fast until Liam cackles beside him, forgetting all about Niall’s confession to laugh about their construction work instead. 

“It isn’t even standing anymore!” Liam crows.

Niall shrugs, eyelids drooping already. He looks like he normally does when he’s had a few too many, getting sleepy at the side of a party. Harry tucks him back into his side as if it was bedtime again, smoothing at his hair while he falls asleep, all the while ignoring Louis’ sharp smile as he tops him up. 

*

When Harry wakes up the next morning it’s to the sound of fireworks outside. His mouth feels gummy, like he’s slept all night with it open and Niall is curled up against his back, snoring loudly into his shoulder. He sounds like a tractor but his lips are soft and warm against him but it’s the first morning in ages that he hasn’t been chewing on his lips in his sleep. 

He rolls over and sees Liam by the window, the boards long torn down last night during their party. The sky looks clear outside and Harry thinks of the sun and the sea and it all feels very far away. 

“What’s going on?” 

Liam shakes himself and looks across the room at him. “Not sure, we’re too far up, I think.” 

Harry nods and turns over, hemming Niall into the sofa and running his thumb across his cheekbone. “Wake up, Nialler.” 

The fireworks get louder and there’s voices somewhere but if the electricity was working, Harry would think that it was the TV. Zayn sits up, blinking blearily at them before slumping back onto the rug. 

There’s a bang somewhere in the distance and Harry knows that this is part of the movie where shit starts to go down.

He runs his thumb over Niall’s bottom lip, ducking in to kiss him chastely. He tries not to breathe too loudly but they’re close and Harry’s breathing is nearly matching Niall’s ragged and rough inhale. He’s bit through his lip during the night and it’s jagged and torn, red raw with blood pooling underneath it. Harry kisses him again, just in case. 

Liam clears his throat and Harry turns over to look at him. “Is he - ok, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry says quietly, answering the unasked question. Liam looks so nervous that Harry feels bad for him. He tightens his grip at the nape of Niall’s neck. “Just waking up.”

Liam widens his eyes and slides off the windowsill. “Just,” he murmurs and then clears his throat again. “I love you guys, y’know?” 

Harry doesn’t know what to say and from this angle he can see the whites of Zayn’s so eyes so he knows he’s still awake, words failing him too. It all feels very final. 

“You still drunk Liam?” Louis finally breaks the silence, voice groggy and he sits up, hair stuck up on one side and the crease of his cushion across his cheek. 

“Maybe a little bit,” Liam grins at him, shuffling across to them. He climbs up onto the other end of the sofa, Zayn finally crawling up to curl into his lap. Niall shifts beside him, beginning the slow process of waking up.

There’s another bang and Harry realises with a start that it’s not fireworks at all.

Harry tightens his grip on Niall’s shoulder and makes room for Louis to squeeze in beside him. He’s got a bottle of something in his hand and the thought of it is enough to make Harry’s stomach turn. He can hear Louis’ throat working as he swallows and the sound he makes in disgust after.

“This is horrible,” Louis croaks.

“Maybe have some water?” Harry suggests instead but Louis shrugs and re-screws the top. There’s people on their floor now. Banging their way along the corridor and Harry isn’t sure if it’s the good or the bad guys. 

He can feel the panic in his belly, growing as they get louder, shouting and screaming. Liam looks scared at the other end of the sofa, pulling Zayn into a hug that looks more for his benefit than Zayn’s - Harry pulls Niall in closer too. 

It’s getting harder to ignore but none of them make any attempt to move. 

“Hey, Haz,” Louis asks and it’s got a familiar growl to it, words taking a little longer to come to his lips. Harry blinks at him, not willing to fully believe it. 

The banging is right outside the door now, hollow through their barricade but still louder than anything they've heard in the past few days.

Louis curls into Harry’s other side, rolling his forehead against his bare shoulder. “Do you think I’ve got a temperature?” 

Shit.


End file.
